


Moment of Grace

by Quercusrobur



Series: Lock the Door, Jack [2]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Episode: s04e13 Journey's End, M/M, Masturbation Interruptus, Stolen Moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 20:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17669750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quercusrobur/pseuds/Quercusrobur
Summary: With a wide, lazy grin, Jack drawls, “I found your bedroom.” It doesn't produce any of the effects he expected.





	Moment of Grace

The blue-suited Doctor slopes in, shoulders hunched; he doesn't notice Jack until he shifts in the chair he is sprawled in. “Jack! What are you - oh.”

With a wide, lazy grin, Jack drawls, “I found your bedroom.”

It doesn't produce any of the effects he expected. The Doctor turns away, seems to draw in on himself. “I'm not him.”

“You're not _him_ , either, and it's probably not even the same bedroom. But they're both part of you, aren't they.” It's not a question; Jack knows the Doctor when he sees him. “You're the Doctor.”

Arms crossed defensively, the Doctor peers down his nose at him. “And you're a time-space anomaly he finds nauseating.”

Jack sighs and lets his head thump back against the chair. Just as impossible as the other one, for damn sure -! Time to kill ( _bit outside her design specifications, go on, Jackie makes excellent tea,_ he’d said; but he kept Rose with him) and Jack had wanted to hide from Donna, but… “Well,” he says, restoring his trousers to some semblance of order, “it’s been a delight. Tell Rose… tell her I'll always love her, will you?”

“I don't,” the Doctor says, and Jack pauses.

“I'm sorry?”

“I don't find you nauseating.” They stare at each other, uncertain, until Jack dissolves into sputtering laughter.

“As bad pick-up lines go, Doctor, that one is world-class.”

His eyes go wide. “It wasn't - I didn't - I mean -”

“Didn't you?” Jack sits forward, staring up at this unusually strange incarnation of the man he has loved and regretted for most of his life. Only one heart beats in that narrow chest; he won't be cool to the touch. He has apparently lost much of his time sense, which must be terrifying, and he surely won't be staying in the TARDIS, which is worse. Still, Jack can't think how he might accurately be described as _not the Doctor_. “We won't get another chance, I don’t think.”

The Doctor looks away. “No. He can’t bear to have me about.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, takes them out, ruffles his hair, puts them in his pockets again and looks back at Jack. “I won't be a notch on your bedpost, Captain.”

“Never,” Jack assures him. “A moment of grace, maybe. I don't know what I'm going back to, and you don't know what you're going into, but here and now… we can make a little brightness, here and now.” Jack stands and holds out his hand, offering whatever the Doctor will accept. Unmoving, the Doctor considers him, eyes darting over his face, those tense lines bracketing his mouth - how can he come ready-made, habits already stamped in? Then in his abrupt way, all long limbs and sharp angles, he reaches Jack, takes his hand.

“That’s all any of us can ever really be, to you, isn’t it? Even him. Striking matches against the endless night.”

The Doctor undoubtedly, but a very different Doctor. Jack pulls him in gently, left hand spread at the small of his back, until he can feel the human heat of him pressed close. Closing his eyes, he lays their foreheads together, nuzzles slowly to tilt the Doctor’s face up until their breath mingles. “Stars,” Jack says quietly, “every one of you. So bright.” The Doctor’s hands rest tentatively at Jack’s waist; he shivers as Jack runs a hand up his arm, into his hair, and he tastes of tea and time and starlight.

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End file.
